


love's such an old-fashioned word

by redheartglow



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Fake Marriage, M/M, Outing, commitment ceremony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 16:25:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redheartglow/pseuds/redheartglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Married people tend to live together, or so I'm told,” Taylor continues, matter-of-factly. “I thought maybe I should try it.”</p>
<p>“You know we're not actually married,” Justin says. “Not legally, anyway.”</p>
<p>Taylor shrugs, undoing Justin's belt with practiced hands. “Close enough.”</p>
<p>(or, the one where, for better or for worse, justin schultz and taylor hall accidentally get commitment ceremony-ed in las vegas)</p>
            </blockquote>





	love's such an old-fashioned word

**Author's Note:**

> in december 2012, justin schultz and taylor hall [most definitely went to las vegas together](http://24.media.tumblr.com/dc5aa5cd9d6c98625fdee1722065c462/tumblr_mgyqkb0keW1rveceao1_500.jpg) for christmas.
> 
> big ups and all of the love to gonetoarcadia for her infinite patience, great beta-ing skills, and for just generally being an excellent human being.
> 
> and as always, for robyn for being the best/worst enabler ever.

It's three months after Justin's twenty-fifth birthday, in the middle of training camp, when Taylor Hall knocks on his apartment door and announces that he needs a place to stay.

“Ebs finally proposed to his girl,” Taylor says by way of explanation. “And she's moving in with him. I’m pretty sure they won’t want me living with them.”

“Well...okay, yeah. That's a thing,” Justin manages, even with Taylor's hand tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“Married people tend to live together, or so I'm told,” Taylor continues, matter-of-factly. “I thought maybe I should try it.”

“You know we're not actually married,” Justin says. “Not legally, anyway.”

Taylor shrugs, undoing Justin's belt with practiced hands. “Close enough.”

Justin Schultz has been sort-of, not-really married since he was twenty-two, and has never considered it in terms like that. But as Taylor drops to his knees in the front hall of the apartment, Justin supposes that there's probably a first time for everything.

-

At age twenty-two, Justin begins his professional hockey career in Oklahoma City during the lockout of 2012. Settling in to a new city is always an experience, but this time he’s adjusting to a new team and a new league too. It’s a little overwhelming at first, but he quickly comes to realize that they’ve got a decent group of guys down here, and he’s sharing an apartment with Ryan Nugent-Hopkins who seems to be a pretty reasonable guy. By the time November rolls around, Justin’s feeling pretty good about life in general, comfortable with how things are unfolding these days.

And then it's Christmas, and Ryan's off in Russia playing in the World Juniors tournament, and the rest of them have a few days off, so Jordan Eberle's invited his girlfriend down for the holidays. Jordan and Colten Teubert decide to throw a Christmas party for couples, and Justin, in his perpetual bachelordom, can't even _pretend_ he wants to go. So it's a relief when Taylor, equally perturbed by the idea of a plus one Christmas party, suggests that the two of them should go on a bro bonding trip to Vegas instead.

Justin remembers shooters, bottle service, and stumbling into bars with a laughing Taylor at his side. He remembers losing one of his cufflinks and getting the numbers of twins who claimed to be back-up singers for the Shania Twain show on the Strip. Really, it had all seemed like a great idea at the time.

He doesn't remember how he got back to the hotel or why he wakes up pantsless and spooning Taylor Hall the next morning.

But most of all, he definitely doesn't remember how they got the piece of paper on the bedside table confirming a commitment ceremony from the night before, and under it, an unmistakable eight by ten glossy of Justin most definitely kissing Taylor under a garish _Just Married!_ banner.

“Fuck,” Justin mumbles, still feeling more than half-drunk. “ _Fuck_. Hallsy, wake up.”

It takes a few more tries before Taylor grunts loud enough to indicate that he's probably sort of awake. “I think we got sort-of married last night,” Justin offers.

“Fuck,” Taylor says, still sounding mostly asleep.

"To each other, I mean," Justin clarifies.

That seems to get a little more of a reaction from Taylor, when he lifts his head a little and turns to look at Justin with half-lidded eyes. "Well, _that_ fucking sucks."

Justin hums in agreement, and he's only a little surprised when Taylor lies back down and goes back to sleep.

Later, over breakfast when they're slightly more awake and marginally more sober, they discuss how this probably isn't a big deal or whatever: Nevada has yet to recognize equal marriage, so it's not like they've done anything _official_. At the end of the day, the fruits of their drunken Vegas night are really just more embarrassing than anything else. Justin is mostly worried that the easy camaraderie he’s always had with Taylor would now be somewhat stilted, as he's having kind of a hard time meeting his eye over omelets and toast. That is, until Taylor looks up and starts snickering.

"What?" Justin wants to know.

"Dude. You gay married me last night," Taylor points out.

Justin puts down his fork. "It's not funny."

"It's a little funny," Taylor argues.

Justin can feel the corners of his mouth tug into a smile, despite himself. He feels some of the tension draining out of his shoulders as Taylor grins tentatively at him from across the table.

So they decide, upon their quiet return to Oklahoma City, that they'll do it with a vow of silence because _what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas_. Besides, Taylor had pointed out, who's going to find out? And Justin’s fine, just fine, with that. Like ill-advised hair bleaching jobs and getting cut from his peewee squad, he even, eventually, mostly forgets that this had even happened.

In retrospect, Justin should have realized just how many things could have gone wrong with that sentiment.

-

Justin's nineteen when he sleeps with a dude for the first time. He's slept with women before, even kind of enjoyed some of the experiences, but at the same time, he finds that his fantasies these days are equal parts short skirts and perky breasts and what’s going on around him in the dressing room. During all the times that he ends up engaging in threeways with teammates on the Wisconsin Badgers, Justin had constantly found himself equally preoccupied by the girl in between him and his teammate, and the times in which she would direct the two guys to slowly kiss for her viewing pleasure.

("Dude, don't even. It can’t be gay if it's a threeway," Gardiner had said one time the morning after, years before _Saturday Night Live_ had popularized the saying in their Lady Gaga skit. Justin often thinks back to this and wistfully thinks about how they could have been the ones to trademark it - they could have made a _killing_.)

When the lockout finally ends, Justin finds himself going out with Taylor sometimes when they're on the road. On one hand, it turns out Taylor's pretty all right at picking up women; on the other hand, it turns out that Taylor's requirements for a pick-up are a shadow, a pulse, and consent. Most of the time, it seems that, as long as the girl that Justin ends up picking up isn't familiar with who they are, and is willing, threesomes end up happening. ("Whatever, bro," Taylor tells him, seemingly unconcerned as he sucked a bruise, mostly hidden, against Justin’s collarbone. "Apparently we're practically married anyway.")

So if Taylor doesn't mind, well, Justin decides that he won't, either.

-

Taylor’s only been living with Justin for three weeks when they get called into Craig MacTavish’s office after practice. The season’s just begun with two solid wins at home, and they’ve finally converted the guest room in Justin’s condo into a bedroom for Taylor so that Justin and Taylor no longer have to literally live on top of each other in Justin’s bed. While that had been kind of admittedly awesome—they’ve been having so much sex, and even though it’s mostly with each other, it’s still pretty great—Justin finds it’s also nice to have his own space sometimes.

So he’s not exactly expecting it when MacTavish lays out the situation bluntly: that Deadspin apparently has pictures of a _wedding_ that the two of them were allegedly involved in a few years back. He then pauses, like he’s gauging their responses. Taylor doesn’t say anything, so it’s probably up to Justin to respond.

“Gay marriage wasn’t legal in Nevada?” Justin volunteers meekly.

From the corner of his eye, it looks like Taylor’s trying to sink so low he’s practically puddled into the seat, and it suddenly occurs to Justin that he’s basically just said pretty much the worst thing he could say at this juncture.

MacTavish just sighs. “I don’t care what happened and I don’t really want to know, either. I just want to know how we’re going to deal with this. They’ve given us twenty-four hours to prepare a statement before they release these alleged pictures.” He pauses. “ _Are_ there actually pictures?”

“Maybe?” Taylor finally speaks up. He sounds mortified. “Um. Can we, uh. Get back to you in, like, an hour, maybe?”

Justin’s not sure how Taylor does it, how he always seems to get exactly what he wants from MacTavish, but of course MacTavish just sighs and shoos them out of his office. “This doesn’t change your place on the team,” he says. “And I guess I should say _congratulations_ , eh, boys?” he adds wryly, and Justin sort of wishes the ground could open up and swallow him whole.

“Well, god-damn,” is the first thing out of Justin’s mouth, swallowing down the concern that he’s about to puke.

Taylor lets his head thunk back against the wall as he slides down until he’s sitting on the floor, looking about three seconds away from _actually_ puking as he draws his knees up to his chest. “What’re we gonna do?” he asks.

Justin doesn’t really get a chance to answer the question he assumes is largely rhetorical anyway, since Sam Gagner chooses that exact moment to wander by while talking loudly at his iphone, presumably engrossed in a loud Facetime conversation. He takes one look at their despondent faces and pauses. “Hey, you guys okay?” he says, and then tilts his phone screen so that whoever he’s talking to can address them, too. It’s Ryan Whitney; of course it’s Ryan Whitney.

“Why the long faces?” Whit adds. “Well, that’s just what Hallsy’s face looks like all the time. But what about you, Schultzy?”

Without looking up, Taylor flips off Whit in the cell phone’s general direction as Sam laughs. “Deadspin wants to out us for getting drunk married in Vegas,” he mutters into his knees, because he has no brain-to-mouth filter. For a moment, Justin actually considers punching him in the face, and only doesn’t since no matter what they decide to do, what Taylor’s said is going to come to fruition in the next twenty-four hours anyway.

Whit just narrows his pixilated eyes at them. “That shit’s not funny, man. Equal marriage ain’t legal in Vegas and commitment ceremonies are the closest thing they can get to actually married, you know. So don’t be disrespectful: your _privilege_ is showing.” He fixes Taylor with what’s probably a death glare.

“How did Ohio make you even grumpier than you already were?” Justin can’t help blurting out at Ryan. And it’s not like he really means it; he just doesn’t know what else to say.

Whit just transfers his glare to Justin before Sam, still laughing, gives them a thumbs up and wanders off again, picking right up where he had left off in his conversation. Mostly, it just sounds like a lot of cursing to Justin.

After a long moment, Justin sits down beside Taylor. “Well,” he says. “ _That_ just happened.”

“I think he approves,” Taylor says.”Of you, I mean.”

“He was glaring,” Justin argues.

“That’s Whitney for approval.” Taylor laughs humourlessly. “God, we’re assholes, aren’t we?”

“Pretty much,” Justin says. He pauses. “We kind of have to come clean, eh?”

Taylor makes a face but doesn’t say anything, and Justin knows that means he agrees.

“This isn’t how I imagined coming out,” Justin confesses, his voice low.

Silently, Taylor turns to give Justin a questioning look.

“I’m gay,” Justin says. “Aren’t you?”

“Uh, no?” Taylor says.

“Oh,” Justin says. “I’m totally into girls too, though,” he adds quickly.

Taylor offers him a tentative grin. “Me too, bro,” he says wryly. “We have so much in common. Girls. And boredom.”

“Sort of,” Justin says.

Taylor shrugs. “That’s cool. You gotta do you. At least you can come out now and you don’t have to do it alone?”

“So you’re not gay but you’re coming out anyway?” Justin moves to stand. “Weird. You sure about this?”

“No,” Taylor says, watching Justin intently. “But Whit’s probably right – we should. It’s probably unfair to say it was, like, a joke or something.”

Justin makes a face, extending a hand to help Taylor stand. “I’m not entirely sure that makes sense. Is Ryan Whitney your moral compass?”

“No,” Taylor says again, sounding surprisingly calm. “Ryan Whitney is not my moral compass; Ryan Whitney is a pain in my ass.” He pauses. “That made it sound like I had sex with him. For the record, I did not have sex with him.”

That startles a surprised, sudden laugh from Justin. And suddenly, maybe it’s not so bad after all.

-

They end up telling the team that afternoon in the dressing room after practice:

"Deadspin's posting pictures on their website of me and Schultzy getting married, kind of," Taylor announces. "We thought you guys should know before the story breaks."

"Congratulations!” Nail Yakupov says excitedly. “Who you guys marry?”

"Each other," Taylor replies, his voice flat. "Sort of. Technically I don't think it was legal, maybe. Don't get weird about it, guys."

“That’s actually the lamest prank anyone’s ever tried to pull,” Ryan says. “Weak, even for you guys.”

“Whatever,” Taylor says, and Justin is almost impressed at how nonchalant Taylor sounds right now. “We should put money on it so that I’ll make a killing off you tomorrow.”

A long moment of silence washes over the room.

“Oh my god,” Sam says, the first one to recover his ability to speak. “You were _serious_.”

“Um, _yeah_ ,” Taylor says. “That’s what we were trying to _tell_ you.”

Justin can’t help himself but to interject. “No, that’s what _you’ve_ been saying. I haven’t said anything!”

“First married fight!” Ladislav Smid sing-songs gleefully. He pauses. “Wait, you newly-weds? And why are you only sort of married?”

“Truthed,” Colten jumps in. “You’re either married or you’re not.”

“Vegas,” Justin volunteers. “Like. During the lockout.”

Ryan narrows his eyes. “Seriously? I was in Russia for like, a month _tops_. And you got married as soon as I was gone to the World Juniors?”

“Pretty much,” Taylor confirms. “Like I said, boys. Don’t get weird about it.”

Apparently that’s the end of the conversation, because everyone seems to take that as a cue to get up and start moving around. Justin knows that not everyone is going to be thrilled by the bombshell of news, but he’s long figured out that there’s no pleasing everybody. Still, most of the guys do come up to shake his hand and offer their congratulations.

What he _is_ kind of surprised by, though, is by the total radio silence by his Captain, and when he looks over, Jordan is most definitely having a hurried, whispered discussion with Taylor. It doesn’t look like a fight’s about the break out, but Justin decides to sidle over just in case.

“—you didn’t _tell_ me!” Jordan’s saying. He looks dangerously close to tears. Justin sincerely hopes Jordan doesn’t end up crying over this one; he’s not good at dealing with grown-men weeping.

“I told you!” Taylor protests. “I called you and told you the next day!”

“I thought you were _kidding_ ,” Jordan hisses. “I mean, _Jesus_ , Hallsy!”

“Sorry?” Taylor tries. He crosses his arms. “But seriously, I told you! That’s totally why I moved in with Schultzy when you got engaged.”

Jordan’s eyes widen. “You think we kicked you out?” he says, sounding hurt.

Taylor shrugs. “‘least I got to move in with my husband, kind of?”

“You love him?” Jordan asks.

“He’s my bro,” Taylor says. “Of course I love him.”

“I mean, are you marrying him because you’re in love, or was it a drunk Vegas night?”

Taylor rolls his eyes. “I’m not in love, Ebby. We’re bros. I’m not even into dudes, you know that.”

“But…” Jordan begins.

“— _that_ into dudes,” Taylor amends, his voice softening, and not for the first time, Justin finds himself wondering about the history between Jordan and Taylor.

Jordan sighs. “So why not just tell everyone it was a joke?”

Taylor shrugs. “That doesn’t seem fair, right? To people who can’t get married. Everyone deserves to be miserable.” He smiles slyly. “Me and Schultzy can do it together until something better comes along.”

“Jesus, Hallsy,” Jordan says again, pulling Taylor in for a tight, clinging hug, which Taylor immediately returns.

(Later, after Jordan’s reminded Taylor about sixteen times that the two of them are going out for food and drinks so they can catch up and talk it out—and then spent about five minutes alternating between patting Justin’s back vigorously and reminding him to ‘take care of my boy,’ and variations thereof—Justin finally gets the opportunity to pull Taylor aside.

“What happened to ‘oh yeah, we’re totally not going to tell anyone’? You called Ebs _the next day_?!”

“It’s _Ebs_!” Taylor says defensively. “What was I supposed to do, _not_ tell him?!”

“I didn’t even tell my mom yet,” Justin says. He’s not even sure why this is an issue, or if it even should be an issue. “She’s going to be so pissed.”

Taylor shrugs. “I never told my mom either.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair before smiling sheepishly. “Maybe she’ll be less pissed off with you when she finds out you kinda married a beauty?”

“We’re getting a divorce,” Justin says dryly, but can’t help the smile tugging on the corners of his own mouth.

“Damn,” Taylor says. “Should’ve signed a pre-nup. Until then, you should take a shower. We still have to talk to MacT after and you stink, bro.”

Justin elbows him in the side. “You’re one to talk. You smell like the inside of Nuge’s hockey bag. Man, I lived with that kid for a few seasons – that shit’s _ripe_.”

A hockey glove suddenly comes flying across the room, hitting Justin in the back of the head. “Fuck you, Schultzy!” Ryan hollers, pitching the other one as well - Justin ducks just in time. “Just ‘cuz you got hitched doesn’t mean you should be a jerkwad.”

Taylor just laughs, that traitor. “Ryan Nugent-Hopkins: mitts of a wizard, ears of a motherfucking hawk.” He bends over to pick up the gloves and crosses the room to give them back to Ryan.

Justin watches as Ryan accepts them and gives Taylor’s shoulder a quick squeeze, and lets out a breath of relief that he didn’t even know he’d been holding.)

-

When Deadspin breaks the story the next day, it’s both worse and better than Justin expects – in 2015, they’re not the first professional athletes to come out, not even the first hockey players, but they’re definitely the first ones who are apparently shacked up together. It’s times like this that Justin is particularly glad of his reputation for providing terribly boring soundbytes, which he gives thanks for as he watches the scrum around Taylor and the swarms of reporters around Jordan, asking him about _team dynamics_.

Hockey’s still hockey: one time, a guy on the other team says something shitty and vaguely homophobic at Justin, so he scores the game winner in revenge. It’s awesome.

For the most part, the sport doesn’t change – Justin’s still got the best job in the world, and the boys in the dressing room are supportive.

(“Man, I am so glad the team traded back for me. Now my little buddy’s gonna have gay uncles,” Colten says delightedly. “I always wanted my kid to have a gay uncle!”

“I’m an only child!” Taylor protests. “I’m not anyone’s uncle!”

“Your parents have a dog they call your little brother,” Justin points out helpfully.

“Shut up Schultzy,” Taylor snaps. “Their dog’s _neutered_.”)

Justin’s mom even comes up to visit for a few days: she stays at the apartment and they give her Taylor’s room to stay in. He’s vaguely horrified by how well Taylor and his mother seem to get along—the morning he had showed up in the kitchen to find the two of them gossiping about him over breakfast will forever be branded in his memory as one of the more traumatic days in his personal history—but he’s kind of relieved about it, he supposes, since she doesn’t seem too angry with him for this entire shitshow.

At the end of her week-long stay, she takes him to Outback, which is the moment when he realizes that he’s not getting off as easy as he thought he would. It’s kind of stupid to go to a franchise steakhouse, he guesses, but that’s where they go for all their watershed conversations—it’s where they had gone when she had told Justin she was divorcing his father, where he had taken her when he’d confessed to being interested in dudes in addition to ladies, where he had told her his decision about which professional hockey team he had ultimately chosen to go to— so it seems kind of fitting. At least he’s getting a meal out of this – a little bit of free food goes a long way.

“So you’re married,” his mom says over calamari and Bruschetta.

Justin shrugs. “Sort of, I guess? We had a commitment ceremony in Vegas three years ago. It’s not exactly legal. Yet.”

His mother considers him. “Did you want it to be legal?”

When Justin doesn’t say anything in response, her smile disappears and is replaced by a _look_ , the one that tells him that she’s not angry, just really, _really_ disappointed.

“It’s complicated,” he finally says. “Like…yeah, it’s kind of stupid that we had a commitment ceremony, especially because we’re not actually together, you know? But now that we _are_ , it seems kind of…not right to break up, maybe? Right now, I mean. So I’m staying until the right one comes along, I guess. Does that make any sense?”

His mother looks at him like she doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or cry. “Not really,” she says. “But you could have done worse, I suppose.”

Justin knows that his mother probably doesn’t get it; he doesn’t really get it himself. But she supports him and trusts that he’ll make good choices, and sometimes, that’s all that he can ask for.

(“My mom sent us a card,” Taylor says later that week, waving it at Justin. On the front is a picture of two Huskies under a caption that says CONGRATULATIONS. Inside, it reads _I was going to send condoms but you’re married!_ in Taylor’s mother’s neat scrawl.

Justin stares at the card for a long time. “This explains so much about you,” he finally manages.

Taylor snatches the card back from him, scowling. “Shut up,” he says haughtily. “My mom is _awesome_.”)

-

The thing is, especially after his conversation with his mother, Justin comes to realize that, while getting laid on the regular and not having to work for it is kind of great—and maybe it makes him old-fashioned, but he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he wants _more_ than that.

“You leaving?” Taylor says mildly, when Justin tries to explain it on a Monday afternoon before they go down for their respective pre-game naps.

“No…I don’t think so?” Justin tries. “Like. I guess just. We didn’t think this one out. Since now we’ve started this, how do we end it?”

Taylor just stares at him.

“It’s just that.” Justin starts and stops, stuttering while trying to put this all together. “Marriage. For me. It should be about love. Like even though my parents are divorced and pretty much everyone else in my family’s marriages ended in divorces.”

“So you’re saying that our marriage is working out better than every other marriage you know?” Taylor tries.

“No,” Justin says. “I’m saying that, I dunno. I’m not in love with you? But maybe I could learn to be.”

Taylor scrunches up his face, thinking. “We’re not married for real, you know?” he says, finally. “We could end it whenever we wanted to, I think.” He shrugs. “We’ll figure it out, eh?”

“Okay,” Justin says, surprised to find that he believes him. “Okay,” he says again, feeling more sure of himself.

-

“Hey Schultzy,” Jordan says, popping up from the middle of nowhere and throwing an arm around him. “Double date tonight? Since you’re practically married and I’m practically married, it could be a fun thing to do together and everyone can bond, you know?”

From behind Jordan, Justin’s pretty sure he sees Taylor making emphatic head-shaking motions: he’s not an expert lip-reader or anything, but he’s pretty sure Taylor’s mouthing something akin to _for the love of god, **no**_. Admittedly, though, it’s kind of hard to tell, since Taylor’s got half of a cupcake crammed in his mouth.

“Sorry Ebs,” Justin says awkwardly, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder and pretending not to notice the way Jordan’s face falls. “Can’t tonight. Got...married stuff. To do. Almost married stuff. You know how it is.”

(“Ugh, thanks for that,” Taylor tells him later, peeling the wrapper off of another beautifully decorated cupcake and chewing carefully. “I love the guy and his girl, but a double date with them might _actually_ fucking kill me.”

Justin blinks, confused. “Why?”

“They’re sympathy double dates! They feel bad about moving in together, maybe?”

“If it weirds you out that much, just tell them to stop feeling guilty.”

“I did! But it keeps happening anyway!”

“Also, why’d he ask _me_ if we wanted to go? He’s _your_ best friend,” Justin says.

“Yeah, but I told him that I had to check with you first,” Taylor says. “You know, since you’re, like, my fake-husband or whatever.”

Justin rolls his eyes. And then, “Where do you keep getting cupcakes from?” he asks, mystified.

Taylor digs around in his hockey bag for a Tupperware container and shakes it in front of Justin’s face. “They made guilt cupcakes,” he says. “Guilt tastes delicious, actually. Who knew?”

“You’re sharing,” Justin says reaching over.

“Says who?” Taylor shoots back, pulling the container back protectively.

“Says your almost-husband,” Justin deadpans, reaching for the Tupperware again. “Fifty percent of your stuff belongs to me. Hand them over.”

Taylor sighs. “They teach you that in college? Fine. You can have the ones that Ebs made.”

Justin raises an eyebrow. “Which ones did Ebs make?”

“The burnt ones,” Taylor says, taking another large bite of dessert.)

-

Later that week, when they’re in San Jose, knee-deep into a road trip, Nail sidles up to Justin and drapes himself all over him, grinning. “Hi, buddy. You good?”

“Sure,” Justin says, and can’t help the smile on his own face. Nail’s good-nature is infectious. “How’s things?”

“Good!” Nail says. “Hey, congratulations for getting married! You are a good guy and Hallsy is a good guy too.” He nods emphatically as if to punctuate his point.

“Thanks,” Justin tells him sincerely. “I really appreciate that.”

Nail keeps nodding. “Did not invite us to your wedding though.”

Justin shrugs. “We didn’t really have one, I guess. Not a real one, anyway. It’s complicated. We’re not really married. So no wedding”

This seems to give Nail pause, and suddenly, Justin remembers that, on a list of things that Nail Yakupov loves the most in life, sandwiched in between hockey, his wife, emoticons, and his dog, is _weddings_. The man loves weddings, enough that he’s definitely had a second on in Edmonton when most of his teammates couldn’t make the one at his mosque back home in Russia.

“No wedding?” Nail says slowly.

“It’s not, uh. Really that kind of. You know. Marriage,” Justin fumbles his way through. “No worries, buddy.”

Nail’s eyes widen. “No wedding?” he repeats. And then he brightens, and Justin realizes that he’s probably in trouble. “Gonna plan a wedding for you and Hallsy. It’s gonna be fun!”

“Um,” Justin manages. “No thanks?”

“Yes!” Nail’s eyes are shining now. “Me and my wife love weddings! We will plan for you and Hallsy the best wedding! Ebs said I can’t plan the wedding for him and his girlfriend. So I plan yours!” He pauses. “Hey, you guys want a double wedding?!”

“Oh my god, no,” Justin says. “Yak, no. Please. Oh god no.”

Nail makes his best tragic face at him. “But my dog will be the best flower girl,” he tries.

“Oh god,” Justin says again, before patting Nail awkwardly on the back. “Sorry, buddy. No wedding. Thanks though; I appreciate it.”

Nail’s face completely falls, as he lets out a long, dramatic sigh. “Okay, okay, you’re the boss, Schultzy,” he says, before wandering off sadly, and Justin almost, almost, starts to feel bad about it.

-

One time, Justin pauses outside his walk-in bathroom door, wet washcloth dangling from his hand. It's a few moments before Taylor, sprawled out in bed on his back, naked and still blissed out seems to notice Justin watching him from the doorway.

"What?" he finally asks.

Justin shrugs and considers tossing the washcloth at Taylor to clean up the mess on his own stomach, but remembers how useless Taylor is after sex. He sits down on the bed instead, wiping at the drying mess. "Pros and cons of being married to you: con - you're totally fucking useless after getting laid."

"Not actually married," Taylor reminds him. "Pro: blowjobs so good you signed with our team."

Justin makes a face. "I signed here because Gretzky called me and told me to." That's actually only half of the truth: there may also be some accuracy to what Taylor's saying—getting phone calls from former greats had been, well, great—but having dinner with, and then getting blown by, one of the team's up and coming stars had also been a strong selling point. There had been something about the exciting possibility of not being the only not-totally-straight kid in the dressing room.

(That was, of course, until he'd realized that Taylor wasn't even gay, exactly; just incredibly easy.)

"Liar," Taylor says easily. "Your dumb O face from like five minutes ago. You love that kind of shit. Um. Threesomes with rockets and _me_. Major pro."

It's true that they do have threesomes, with pretty girls who aren't looking for anything serious, who don't recognize them, who they meet on the road. It's a good system -- Justin doesn't sleep with a lot of dudes during the season, but at least there's always Taylor.

(One time they pick up a dude on Taylor's say so. Halfway through, Justin realizes that the guy bears a striking physical resemblance to Jordan. It’s weird.)

“I’m just saying,” Justin says, cleaning up the last of the mess and tossing the washcloth aside to deal with later. “What the fuck are we even doing?”

“A really elaborate version of friends with benefits?” Taylor says. “I dunno. It’s nice to feel wanted, I guess.”

Justin stares at him, waiting for the punch-line and frowns when it never comes. “You’re _Taylor Hall_ ,” he finally says. “Seriously?”

Taylor beams. “That’s true,” he says. “I am pretty great.”

Justin laughs, relieved. “Go fuck yourself, Hallsy.”

“No need, if you’re around,” Taylor replies smoothly. “Hey, so I’m just gonna pass out here tonight – that cool?”

Shrugging in agreement, Justin leans over to slap off the bedside lamp. He pulls up the covers over both of them, rolls over so that he’s not facing Taylor, and closes his eyes.

-

In the end, it’s Taylor who mentions it first, his timing stellar as usual as he brings it up while Justin’s got three fingers in him.

“We should get divorced,” Taylor says.

“We’re not actually married,” Justin says automatically. He pauses, suddenly taken aback. “Wait. Are you breaking up with me?”

“Not married,” Taylor reminds him. “But yeah, I guess so.”

“Uh,” Justin says. He thinks he might know the answer before there even is one. “Okay. Uh. Why?”

Taylor shrugs. “Because if you got outed, you should at least get to hook up with other dudes? Or, you know. Girls. And I should get to find someone too.”

“What if I don’t want to hook up with people?” Justin asks. He’s not sure why he asks because he knows that he doesn’t mean it.

Taylor shrugs again. “That’s okay too. Nothing wrong with being alone.”

Justin stares at Taylor for a long time. “You make a better friend and teammate than husband,” he finally says.

Taylor quirks a grin at him. “You want a husband,” Taylor says. “Like an actual one.”

“I think so,” Justin says.

“Gross,” says Taylor.

“Or a wife,” Justin adds.

“Bro,” Taylor says, making a face.

“We could break-up,” Justin suggests. “Like, for real. And say it’s irreconcilable differences.”

“I don’t actually know what that means,” Taylor confesses. “But I’m going to assume you’re right because you’re smarter than me.”

“Most people are,” Justin agrees.

“Still gonna have your back though,” Taylor tells him. “You’re my bro, no matter what. Just, you know. So you know.”

“You too,” Justin says automatically, but finds that he means it fully and completely. And then, “We could still be roommates though.”

“Oh, thank god,” Taylor says dryly. “And here I thought I was going to have to move into Ebby’s garage or something.”

“So, does that mean we aren’t doing this anymore?” Justin ventures, resting a hand against Taylor’s hip. “That’s what a divorce means, right?”

“...tomorrow,” Taylor says, trying to sound annoyed and failing spectacularly. And then, “Though if you really are my non-husband bro, I’m gonna need you to move _right the fuck now_ , okay?”

Justin laughs at that, suddenly feeling more at ease than he has in days, and crooks his fingers.

 

[end]


End file.
